


This and That: A Daycare Verse Collection

by pocky_slash



Series: Daycare 'Verse [32]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Dancing, Domestic, Established Relationship, Gen, Halloween, Kid Fic, M/M, Married Couple, Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot ficlets from the Daycare Verse written over the course of 2013. Includes dancing (the sexy kind), movie night, date night, dancing (the silly kind), Charles in the morning, Erik in the morning, a perfect June evening, and a Halloween prank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! Almost! These are Daycare Verse ficlets I wrote on LiveJournal and Tumblr throughout the year and never posted on AO3 because I'm an idiot. But, on the plus side, that means you get to devour them all at once, so think of it as my New Year's present to you ;)
> 
> These are in roughly chronological order for the series.

Erik doesn't like going out because Erik doesn't like people. Erik _does_ like Charles, however and, when weighing how much he dislikes people versus how much he does like Charles, he finds Charles winning out by a large margin and thus he finds himself elbowing past people to get to the bar at some packed club on a Friday night.

"Moira's boyfriend dumped her," Charles had said. "And it's my job as her best friend to take her out to drink and forget. She said you can come, if you'd like."

Faced with the prospect of a Friday night without Charles or a Friday night in a crowded bar, Erik found himself exchanging his torn, stained working-from-home jeans for something more appropriate and now he's paying far too much money for watered down drinks while Charles and Moira animatedly wave their hands at each other, obviously having a mental conversation thanks to the ridiculous din of the terrible music.

Fucking hell, but Erik hates clubs.

At least, he hates them up until the moment when a song Charles recognizes comes on. His eyes light up and he grins and grabs Erik's hand and shouts out loud, "I love this song! Dance with me?"

And Erik says yes. Every time. Because Erik hates the music in these places, but he loves watching Charles love the music. He loves watching Charles move his body to the beat, loves pressing his chest to Charles' back and feeling the music through him, feeling his bones vibrate with the bass and feeling Charles vibrate up against him, his body warm and malleable as he presses against Erik and closes his eyes and smiles as Erik's hand holds him there, low on his stomach, flirting with the hem of his shirt.

_Don't you love this?_ Charles thinks as the chorus kicks in and the whole dance floor seems to move as one.

Erik presses his nose into Charles' hair. It smells like sweat and beer and cigarettes, even though Charles doesn't smoke and is drinking vodka. He slinks even closer, plastered to Charles' back and thinks, _Yeah, yeah I do love this._

He's rather sure they're talking about two different things. He presses closer and doesn't care.


	2. movie night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles attempts to join Moira and Erik for movie night. It's a bad choice.

"Oh dear god," Charles says, and attempts to burrow into the couch.

"Ssssh," Moira says, "this is important."

"Someone vomiting blood and talking gibberish is important?" Charles says.

"Yes," Erik says. "Be quiet."

Charles huffs and doesn't look up. In fact, if anything, he angles his body further away from the screen, half buried in couch cushions, half tucked behind Erik. It's making sitting largely uncomfortable. It's also hard to focus on the film.

"I don't know why I agreed to this," Charles mutters.

"Because you really wanted me to chaperone the trip to the pumpkin patch and you live under the delusion that I'm much nicer than I am," Erik says. "Believe me, this could be worse."

"Yeah," Moira says. "I also have the new Sam Rami film."

"I don't know what that is," Charles says, "but I can assume it's awful."

Erik can't stifle his laugh and he's temporarily assaulted by guilt. He wraps an arm around Charles, holding him close but still faced away from the screen. This is a torture of Charles' own making--agreeing that if Erik chaperoned a field trip, Charles would sit through the movie night Moira and Erik have been trying to plan since the discovery that they share a love of horror films. Still, Erik is annoyingly sensitive to Charles being upset, and the slow zombification of a tiny town in Canada is definitely grossing him out, if not entirely upsetting him.

"This is an interesting take on the zombie subgenre and commentary on language and culture," Erik murmurs. "It's smart _and_ gross."

"And you're patronizing _and_ mean," Charles retorts.

"You had plenty of time to change your mind," Erik says.

"Both of you shut the fuck up," Moira says.

Charles sighs and presses his face further between Erik's shoulder and the back of the couch.

_You can just go inside, you know,_ Erik thinks. _Moira won't care. I don't care. Run to the library if you need to._

_No,_ Charles responds, _I made a promise._

_You're not actually watching,_ Erik says.

_I made a promise,_ Charles repeats. 

Erik laughs and buries his nose in Charles' hair, kissing the back of his head.

"You're ridiculous," he murmurs.

"You're both more disgusting than this movie," Moira says. Then, "Oh!"

Erik whips around.

"What was that?" he asks.

"She just slammed herself into the booth!"

"Rewind!" he says.

"Ugh, you're both terrible," Charles says.


	3. date night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has to interrupt a date. Erik couldn't be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have all this meta in my head about the way the mutant social service system works in this verse and most of it is cribbed from the particular social service system that I work with IRL. There was going to be a whole second part where Charles works to deescalate a mutant kid in crisis as a sort of mutant peer worker? And I might add a second chapter about it eventually. For now, instead of world-building, here is Charles ruining a date, maybe three or four months into his relationship with Erik.

Charles knows Erik is going to call him about thirty seconds before the phone actually rings. He tends to linger in Erik's head, not invasively or actively reading his mind, but close enough to feel his moods and temperament. There's a spike of the very particular affection and nerves that Erik always feels when he thinks about Charles, laced with intent. Charles puts down his scissors and pulls his phone out of his pocket, laying it on the table and waiting until the first buzz moments later. He accepts the call and puts it on speaker before picking up his scissors and going back to cutting out paper stars.

"Hello, darling," he says.

"Hi," Erik says. There's shuffling sound on Erik's end of the line. "What's up?"

"I'm cutting out paper stars for a project tomorrow," Charles says. "You called me. What's up with you?"

Erik sighs as if he's immensely put-upon.

"I won an award," he says, which is not entirely what Charles is expecting after that level of reluctance.

"That's wonderful!" Charles says. "Congratulations!"

"They're having a thing and they're making me go so they can give me a thing for it," Erik continues. 

Thankfully, years of teaching preschoolers has given Charles an uncanny ability to parse nonspecific sentences.

"Are they?" Charles asks. He knows what's next, even without peeking past the surface of Erik's mind.

"I thought...maybe you'd want to come," Erik says. "It's a benefit thing. Formal. It starts at seven. And if they're making me go, I thought maybe at least I could get something out of it."

"Something being showing off your rich, attractive, younger boyfriend?" Charles asks.

"Something being spending an evening looking at you in formalwear," Erik says. A beat. "And your thing too, maybe."

Charles cuts out the last of his stars, grinning.

"Pick me up at six-thirty," he says. "I promise I'll wear something worth showing off."

"Six," Erik says. "It's at the Ritz-Carlton and if you're going to be meeting the insipid idiots I work with, we're going to need a drink or beforehand."

The Ritz is maybe a ten minute drive from his apartment.

"An hour of drinking?" Charles asks.

"They're very insipid," Erik says. Charles laughs and leans back in his chair. "Anyway...uh. I'll call you again later tonight."

"I look forward to it," Charles says.

"Love you," Erik says, with just the slightest awkward hesitation that he's still trying to overcome.

"Love you too," Charles says. "I'll talk to you later."

He disconnects the call and smiles for a moment before shaking his head clear and pulling out another sheaf of construction paper. He has more shapes to cut out. He can grin dopily about his chance to finally meet Erik's co-workers later.

***

"Wow," Erik says when Charles opens the door. "I mean, uh."

Charles grins. 

"Let me get my coat," he says, but before he can turn from the door, Erik grabs his arm and tugs him back.

"Wait," Erik murmurs, and pulls Charles close, running his hand from Charles' hip up to his waist and across the small of his back, admiring the tailoring of his suit. They kiss slowly, with a sort of familiarity that Charles relishes. "You look good," Erik says when he pulls away, his hand still pressed to the small of Charles' back. "Really good."

Charles knows he looks good. He's wearing a dark blue suit that he knows compliments his eyes and his complexion. It's well tailored, which, admittedly, is more than he can say for the rest of his wardrobe. Baggy and worn is efficient and appropriate for his day job, however, and he's in no hurry to change that any time soon.

"You're wearing a three-piece suit," Erik says. "And...cufflinks. When I said 'formal' I meant like...wear a tie." He runs his fingers down Charles' tie.

"I'll look that much better when you're called up to accept your award and I kiss you on the cheek in front of all your colleagues," Charles says, catching Erik's fingers when they linger over the buttons of Charles' waistcoat. "Let me get my coat."

It's a short drive over to the hotel and before long they're ensconced in the hotel bar sipping drinks as they wait for dinner to start. Charles is content to curl into the corner of one of the couches in the lounge with Erik leaning into his personal space, far enough away that they can avoid any of Erik's colleagues with a similar idea. 

In a way, he's lucky that he was more interested in flirting outrageously with his boyfriend than pre-gaming a benefit dinner, because when his phone rings, he's still barely tipsy.

"It's Logan," he tells Erik when he pulls the phone from his pocket. His stomach sinks. Logan after five on a weekday can only be bad news.

"Who?" Erik asks.

"Oh," Charles says. "A friend of mine--he's a social worker. I consult with him occasionally on particularly tricky mutant cases." Before Erik can inquire further, Charles connects the call. "Mr. Howlett! How can I be of service this evening?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about that phrasing," Erik mutters, dipping his head down to kiss the corner of Charles' mouth.

"I have a problem, Chuck," Logan says, while Charles swats at Erik and says, "Not now, darling."

"What was that?" Logan asks.

"Nothing," Charles says. "My boyfriend's being a nuisance."

"Good," Logan says. "He can drive you to the ED. I've got a eight year old pyrotechnic who's gonna be restrained and sedated if you don't talk 'er down." 

Charles sighs. Erik is watching him curiously. He feels awful, but knowing he turned his back on a child in danger would make him feel worse.

"I'll be right there," he tells Logan, and hangs up.

"I'm not sure if I should be jealous you're getting out of this or glad you won't have to be subjected it," Erik says.

"Neither," Charles says. He leans over and kisses Erik. "You're getting out of it with me. No jealousy necessary."

Erik hesitates for just a moment.

"What's--" he starts to say, then shakes his head. "Nevermind. I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Let's go." He stands up and takes Charles' hand, pulling him up as well.

"There's a mutant child in the middle of a crisis," Charles says. "She needs to be deescalated before they sedate her and neutralize her."

"And that's your job how?" Erik asks, even as he shrugs on his coat.

"I'm a teacher trained specifically in mutant psychology and development," Charles says dryly. "It's exactly my job, darling. Sorry to ruin the evening."

"Ruin?" Erik says. "You just made it ten times better. Let's get out of here."


	4. shake the sillies out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik sincerely regrets dropping Charles' lunch off at the daycare.

Erik's just dropping off Charles' lunch, left on the couch next to the scarf he decided not to wear at the last minute. It's a nice afternoon, though it was a bit chilly this morning, and the walk to the daycare is pleasant. Hopefully it will be enough to clear his head so he can look at his design with fresh eyes when he returns to the apartment and figure out why it isn't working the way it should be. A quick trip and he'll turn right back around and head home.

He's foolish enough to think that right up until the point when closes the door behind him and hears Jean Grey shout, "MR. ERIK MR. ERIK MR. ERIK IS VISITING US!"

He groans. There are entirely too many nosy telepaths in his life.

In the main room of the daycare, the children are gathered around Charles, but peering expectantly at the doorway. Erik rolls his eyes.

"I brought your lunch," he says, holding up Charles' lunchbox.

"Thank you, love," Charles says. "We were about to have storytime."

"Stay stay stay stay!" Jean says. She dashes across the room and wraps her arms around Erik's legs. "Stay, Mr. Erik!"

"Jean," Charles says, "we don't touch without asking first."

"Sorry," Jean says, and she takes a step back and looks up at Erik with big, pleading eyes, not dissimilar to Charles' big pleading eyes. "Please stay, Mr. Erik? Please stay?"

"Fine," Erik says with a sigh.

Charles grins at him, bright and pleased. It pleases Erik, too, and he quickly rolls his eyes before he's forced to forfeit his "long-suffering boyfriend" card. 

"All right," Charles says, turning back to the children, "before we have our story, what do we have to do?"

"Shake the sillies out!" Scott says. Jean claps enthusiastically and skips over to him. The Drake boy is similarly enthused and the younger students turn their attention back to Charles and Moira.

Erik doesn't like the sound of this.

"That's right," Charles says. "Let's shake out our sillies!"

All at once, the children and Charles and Moira begin jumping up and down and wiggling in place, in some sort of uncoordinated group dance. Erik watches with slowly rising eyebrows.

"Mr. Charles!" Jean says. "Mr. Erik isn't shaking his sillies out!"

"Hold on," Moira says, "let me get my camera--" but Charles elbows her without missing a beat in the bizarre dance he's performing. It's ridiculous and he looks ridiculous, but Erik still has to struggle to hold back his smile.

_You have to shake the sillies out, love,_ Charles tells him. _It's a rule, you know._

_I hate you,_ Erik replies.

_You don't,_ Charles says. _You think I'd oddly charming and you're embarrassed how cute you think this is and you'd rather like to kiss me._

_You're insufferable,_ Erik says. _I should leave._

_You should come over here and wiggle with me,_ Charles says, and then he turns those big eyes on Erik. Erik swears under his breath in German and pushes past his inhibitions, the insistence that this is undignified and pointless, and joins the children in shaking their sillies out.


	5. morning ritual (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles likes to linger in the mornings.

Charles gets up an hour before Erik every morning. In the early days of their relationship, he used to dress in the dark or in the bathroom or in the hall. He understands, after a year of dating and six months of living together, that this is unnecessarily--Erik would sleep through an air raid. He certainly has no problem sleeping through Charles' morning routine, the quiet noises of drawers opening and shutting, the distant hum of the shower, the rustle of fabric as Charles dries himself off and dresses in the bedroom by the light of the lamp on his dresser.

Charles likes to linger in the mornings, to take his time preparing for his day. He makes breakfast and looks at his lesson plans, making note of any last minute changes based on the weather, supplies, or the general mood of the classroom. He reads the newspaper from the day before while he eats his toast and yogurt and sips a cup of coffee or tea. He relishes the quiet before he has to head to the daycare and spend nine to ten hours wearing his brightest smile, surrounded by a class full of exuberant children who all want to be the center of his attention.

The rest of his morning routine goes one of two ways. Some mornings he brushes his hair and teeth and returns to clear up his breakfast things. He opens the junk drawer and takes out a stack of post-its and a pen and jots a message-- _Have a good day. I love you._ It's the same message every morning, almost an afterthought the first time. It's wormed its way into his routine, though, after the discovery that Erik keeps them all. Every single note, even though they all say the same thing with very little variation, is piled in the top drawer of Erik's dresser. It's a softness he doesn't reveal to just anyone, one that he barely reveals to Charles. Charles would like to cultivate it, would like to show Erik that he's not all sharp edges, that there's just enough give that Charles can fit comfortably against him.

That's only the first option, though. Half of Charles' mornings end with a note. The other half--the _best_ half--end with the sleepy curl of Erik's consciousness rousing itself a few minutes before his alarm. Too late to get more sleep, too early for Erik to justify getting out of bed unless there's reason.

Charles gives him reason, on those mornings. He lingers in the bathroom, flossing or studying himself in the mirror for another moment, just long enough for Erik to convince himself to get out of bed and lumber in behind Charles, still half asleep, too tired to worry about his usual morning grumpiness. He presses himself against Charles' back, wraps his arms around his waist and kisses Charles' ear, cheek, throat, chin, whatever he can reach.

"Good morning," he mumbles.

"Good morning," Charles replies, and turns around to kiss Erik properly, pressed close in the small space in front of the mirror.

If he's five minutes late on those mornings...well. There's no one there to see him when he slips into the shuttered daycare, and the fleeting kiss, the graze of Erik's morning stubble, and the sleepy, besotted look that Erik gives him under the harsh fluorescent light are more than worth the slight tardiness.


	6. morning ritual (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik fucking hates mornings.

A whirlwind two day trip to San Jose has Erik's sleep schedule tied in knots. He's been picking at a dozen different designs since the plane ride home, filled with ideas for everything on the periphery of his plate. Some of the conference presenters had been brilliant and he has no compunctions stealing their techniques. Even the less brilliant speakers were bad enough that he spent their presentations thinking of how he'd do their jobs better, which was its own sort of inspiration.

It's been a crazy week since his late Sunday night/early Monday morning return flight. He's been working strange hours, popping in and out of the office as needed, sleeping in the middle of the day and working all night. He's glad for the flexibility of his job and the fact that Coulson doesn't care where his ass is planted as long as the work comes in on time. He tries to be awake when Charles is home, and that's all that matters until he looks at his calendar and sees a Friday staff meeting. _On site,_ the notes section reads. _(That means you, Lehnsherr.)_

Was he just thinking he was glad he works for Phil Coulson? He's definitely retracting that statement.

It's probably for the best, really. He needs to kick his sleep schedule back into place. He can't work from home forever and with the weekend coming, being awake when Charles is home is probably going to involve him getting out of bed before three. He intends to go to sleep at a normal time, maybe even Charles' normal time, but one thing leads to another and at ten-thirty, he's bent over his iPad, squinting at some notes when Charles comes in to say good night.

"I have to get up early for a field trip, so I'm going to sleep by the clock," he says after he kisses the top of Erik's head.

"Sounds good," Erik says. "I'll try not to wake you. I'll just be a minute." He taps to the next page and frowns at the continued notes. "Or two."

"Take your time," Charles says, and kisses him again. "Don't forget you have a meeting tomorrow."

"Got it," Erik murmurs and turns his head just slightly to steal a kiss before Charles slips out of the office and back towards the bedroom.

Time sort of...blurs after that. One moment Erik's thinking, _Well, 11:30 isn't that bad..._ and the next moment it's 1:48 and he has to be sitting in a board room in seven hours. He groans to himself and goes to work saving his projects, putting his notes for the meeting in order, shutting down his equipment, and staggering towards the bedroom. He sets the alarm on his phone for the gruesome hour of seven am and then opens the door and tiptoes into the darkened room. His eyes don't adjust fast enough, so he trips over a shoe and has to rustle around the outlets behind the nightstand to try and plug in his phone charger before giving up and yanking out one of the other cords. Charles shifts minutely when Erik joins him in bed, but doesn't wake, even as Erik curls up behind him and finally drifts off to sleep.

***

The blaring, bone-shaking din of Erik's phone alarm wakes him abruptly at seven am. He jumps and smacks the nightstand blindly looking for it before he remembers that it's plugged in on the other side. He rolls into the rumpled spot left behind by Charles, long gone by now, and paws helplessly for his phone, silencing the alarm with bleary eyes.

He fucking hates mornings. And meetings. And...phones.

He squints at the alarm clock on the beside table, but the reading is unclear. It takes him a flustered morning moment to realize that's because there is no display on the clock. It's dark and blank. He wonders if they lost power, and then remembers rooting around to plug his phone in last night.

And _then_ remembers that Charles had to wake up early this morning.

"Oh, shit," he murmurs.

He's frozen for a moment, leaning on his elbow on the bed and staring at the dark clock. He doesn't hear Charles anywhere in the apartment, which is good--he got up eventually. Probably in enough time. Hopefully. 

_Shit_.

Erik is a terrible boyfriend. He's always known that, always joked about it, but he's actually feeling _shame_ now, which he doesn't like at all. It's supposed to be a joke for when he forgets to pick up the kind of toothpaste Charles likes, not a well-deserved title after carelessly making Charles late for a field trip. 

He lingers, his palm flat on the mattress where Charles was sleeping a few hours ago. He doesn't have time to wallow for long, though--he'll be late as well if he doesn't get up and start his morning.

He showers and heads into the kitchen to start the coffee so it will brew while he dresses. He stops in front of the coffeemaker.

There's no note.

There's a note every morning. There's been a note on that coffeemaker every single morning since Erik moved in with Charles. The only exceptions are the mornings when Erik is up before Charles leaves, but if he doesn't see Charles, he can count on a note.

There's no note.

It's fine. That's what he tells himself as he starts the coffee. It's fine, Charles was running late, it was Erik's fault, of course Charles was pissed at him, of course there's no note. It's not a big deal. He has a whole fucking drawer full of notes and they all say the same fucking thing and just because Charles didn't leave him a note doesn't mean that Charles doesn't want him to have a good day. It doesn't mean that Charles doesn't love him.

Erik _hates_ feelings.

He dresses with his shoulders slumped and his mouth curled into a frown, ties his tie while staring into his own hangdog expression. He's stupid. He's really stupid. He doesn't deserve a note.

Doesn't he?

It's a ritual, Erik thinks as he pours his coffee into a travel mug. It's their stupid thing that they do every day and, so what if Erik unplugged the alarm clock? Shouldn't Charles wait until Erik has a chance to apologize before he passive-aggressively punishes him for _an honest mistake_? It wasn't like Erik meant to make Charles be late. He wouldn't do that. He knows how important the stupid daycare is to Charles, he knows that Charles is ridiculously punctual, he knows that Charles takes pride in being reliable. Erik would never purposely ruin any of that. Erik wants Charles to have all of the things he wants and it's not his fault that after jet leg and a week of a skewed sleep schedule, he made one tiny mistake.

He's cranky when he gathers his pile of meeting materials off the coffee table. He's surly by the time he reaches his office.

"I told you," Azazel says. "You should come in after long trips. Helps with the jet lag. Not that one can tell with you, Lehnsherr."

"No," Erik snaps. "I'm fine. I'm tired, and it's not my fault that I get a little sloppy when I'm tired, okay?"

Azazel blinks at him.

"Have you been cut off, Lehnsherr?" he asks.

"No!" Erik says. "And there's no reason I should be!" He smacks his briefcase on the table and pulls out his files. He shouldn't be shouting this at Azazel. He should be telling Charles. He should be telling Charles that it was a fucking mistake and he's _sorry_ and this is really, totally out of proportion and--

He pulls out his cellphone and hits Charles' number, shoving the phone between his ear and his shoulder and flipping open his files.

And there, on top of his notes, is a post-it.

_Have a good meeting! I know it will be a rough day. Call me if you need me. I love you._

Oh. _Oh_.

"Erik?" Charles asks from the phone. "Hello?"

Erik swallows and touches the edge of the note. He's fucking exhausted.

"Hi," he says quietly. He clears his throat. "Hey. Hi. I just wanted to--hi."

"Hi," Charles says. "How's your morning, love?"

Erik clears his throat again.

"Better," he says. "Thanks for the note. I love you too. Have fun today, okay?"

"I'm sure I will," Charles says. "Thanks for calling. Oh, and, just so you know, you unplugged the clock instead of the lamp when you plugged your phone in last night. It's not a big deal--I woke up early anyway--but I know how you get if you can't see what time it is if you wake up at night."

"Oh, I, um, hadn't noticed," Erik lies. 

"I'll fix it when I get home," Charles says. "Anyway, I should go. Do you want to go out tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," Erik says. "Let's go to the sushi place." Charles has been craving sushi. He just mentioned it last night. Sushi for dinner tonight is the least Erik can do.

"Sounds great," Charles says. "Love you, talk to you later."

"Love you too," Erik says.

He keeps staring down at the post-it. Fuck, he needs to sleep. And probably kiss his boyfriend. A lot.

"I would comment on your behavior this morning, but I am terrifyingly used to your oddness by this point," Azazel says. "Are you prepared for our meeting?"

"Yeah," Erik says. "Yeah, I am now. Let's go."


	7. a perfect evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was walking by and I thought, 'This is a beautiful, perfect night. The only way it could get better is if Erik were here.'"

Erik is channel surfing and seriously thinking about the beer in the refrigerator, though still lacking the motivation to stand up and get it. Charles is out having a drink with Moira, and Erik has nothing pressing to do and nowhere pressing to be, which means he's not really moved since he got home from work.

There's nothing wrong with that. It's nice to have a relaxing night in once in awhile.

He's just about worked up the energy to hunt down that beer, when there's a gentle burst of awareness in his mind, a spreading warmth, like stepping into the bath.

_Hey, are you home?_ he asks, pushing himself to his feet.

_No,_ Charles replies. _I'm down at the park._ The image appears in his mind seamlessly, snatched right from his memory, a mental snapshot of a baseball diamond and a gazebo. _You should come down here._

_Why?_ Erik asks. He opens the fridge and thinks about whether he wants a snack to go with his beer.

_Because I want you to,_ Charles says. _Because I love you, and I want you to, and you love me, and you're already bored and wishing I was there to distract you._

All true. He wonders if Charles is tipsy enough to get sloppily affectionate, tactile and soppy and prone to stealing kisses.

_I am,_ Charles says. _Come to the park. And bring a snack! I'm hungry._

_Not your waiter,_ Erik says, even as he takes the bag of grapes from the fridge and summons his keys and phone from the other room. _I'll be there in ten minutes._

It's a nice walk to the park. They're in that nebulous part of June where it's 90 one day and 70 the next, and the evening is cool with a slight breeze. Warm enough that Erik doesn't need a jacket, but not hot enough to sweat, even when he lazily jogs the last couple blocks. It's just past seven and the sun is beginning its descent as he spies Charles lying on the grass. His head is pillowed on his discarded cardigan. He sits up as Erik approaches, and waves. Erik feels silly waving back, but that doesn't stop him.

"You brought me grapes!" Charles says as Erik crouches down and then sits next to Charles in the grass. Charles' smile is a little sloppy around the edges. Still plenty tipsy, then.

"They're your grapes," Erik says. "I just took them out of the fridge."

"Still," Charles says, and leans over to kiss Erik in greeting. He tastes a little bit like beer, and Erik steals a second kiss before Charles can properly pull away.

"What's up, baby?" Erik asks. Charles makes a face at him at the endearment, but kisses Erik again and then leans against him.

"Nothing," Charles says. "It's just so beautiful. The light and the temperature and the breeze and the air. And I was walking by the park and smelled the grass and I thought, 'This is a beautiful, perfect night. This is the sort of night people write stories about. The only way it could get better would be if Erik was here.'" He smiles up at Erik, a reminder of half a dozen things that Erik loves--the curve of Charles' mouth, the color of his eyes, the freckles that are more prominent as they transition into summer, and, above all else, the fact that, when presented with a perfect evening, Charles' first thought was to find him.

"I'm here now," Erik says. He slides his arms around Charles' waist, a loose embrace, heedless of the other people taking advantage of the perfect weather--a woman walking her dog, a father pushing a baby carriage, a pair of children laughing as they run around the baseball diamond.

"You are," Charles says. He turns his head to rub his nose against Erik's evening stubble. "And you brought grapes."

"You're a cheap date," Erik says.

"I'm a cheap date?" Charles asks. "You're the one who came all the way out here without explanation."

"Well, it was either you or _Law and Order_ reruns, so," Erik says.

"Oh, shut up," Charles murmurs, and cuts off the conversation with another kiss as the sun continues to sink past the horizon line.


	8. creepy crawlies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik plays a Halloween prank. Charles is unimpressed.

When Erik comes back from carrying Raven to bed, Charles is sitting on the porch swing, eating a Twix bar. He offers the bowl of candy on his lap to Erik, who shuffles through it absently.

"I told you to only give the crappy things to the kids. Where are all the peanut butter cups?" he asks.

"Sorry, love, I let them choose themselves." 

Erik settles for a Snickers and loops his arm over Charles' shoulders. The hat of Raven's dinosaur costume is sitting on the swing next to Charles. Around them, the neighborhood is only just beginning to go fully dark. Older children are still roaming the streets, giggling in the street lights and the warm yellow glow of jack-o-lanterns and orange Halloween lights.

"I like Halloween," Charles says. "And not just--taking the baby out was very fun. But I like this, too. I like watching the older children run around. I like that all the houses are lit up and decorated and inviting in their own way. It feels very communal."

"Mm," Erik says, nodding. He pulls Charles towards him. "I like being scared. And scaring other people."

"Also valid," Charles says, though the way he wrinkles his nose says otherwise. 

"Dark night, lights out," Erik says.

"Yes, I get it."

"You think you're alone but you hear something downstairs."

"No need to go on."

"You could go see what it is, but the shadows in the room look different too. You don't remember them this way when you went to sleep."

"Erik, quit it."

"And maybe one of them is moving. And you could make a break for it, but what if you get twisted in the blankets? What if you trip? Maybe you can wait it out."

" _Erik_."

"Waiting in the dark. Trying to pretend you're asleep, but there's movement, you can tell, and it's getting closer--"

"Trick or Treat!" a group of children shout from the foot of the porch, and Charles jumps a mile and swears. Erik rescues the candy bowl from him and crosses the porch to offer them candy. He can feel Charles glaring at him.

_You're sleeping on the couch,_ Charles says.

_Then who will protect you from the creeping terror in the bedroom?_ Erik asks.

_I hate you so much._

"Happy Halloween!" he says to the kids, grinning with all his teeth.


End file.
